


Why Do I Have Skrillex On Repeat

by NightingaleLost



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Death, Fantrolls, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 05:10:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightingaleLost/pseuds/NightingaleLost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deacon's perfect day. A present for Spudstud on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Do I Have Skrillex On Repeat

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

There was a loud smack, and a small tree vibrated with the force of the body colliding into it. Deacon grinned his wild grin, not bothering to look back at the troll he had sent flying, instead pouncing to his left and delivering a swift upperkick to a pissblood's chest. A flash out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he fell back onto his hands, bouncing back up as a dart flew over his face. There was a part of him that realized the other was close enough to be considered in his reach but his instincts were already joyously seizing the chance; a hand shot out and tightened on a curling horn, slamming the owner of them down into the leafy ground below.

 

His blood was singing, rushing through him and in some places across his skin but he didn't give a flying fuck because this night was starting out _great_. A sharp swish sounded as something black and thin wrapped around his throat; a whip from a midblood. The owner pulled and it squeezed, most likely trying to strangle the life out of him but Deacon fought against the urge to claw at his neck, instead running forward and tackling her around her chest. A great gasp escaped along with all of her air and she hit the ground with her mouth open in a futile attempt to breathe. Deacon brought his foot down quickly on her ribs to make just a little harder and ripped the whip from his neck, swinging it point-first so the handle smacked against another troll's head.

 

He couldn't help but laugh as he looked around; the group of five he had been fighting had now dwindled into a group of four; the yellowblood he had kicked a few seconds ago was taking off into the leafy underbrush and the others were either unconscious or dazed enough that this was no longer a fight, rather an encounter in which he had emerged victorious once more.

 

Deacon debated whether or not he wanted the yellowblood to get away; sometimes it was nice to leave one alive to tell the story, and draw more power-hungry trolls into the forest to fight. But he had let that other blueblood go yesterday, and trolls would listen to someone higher on the spectrum anyway...

 

He took off toward the fading flap of yellow and green clothing, his grin spreading as his heartbeat picked up in his race. This was good, this was made him _happy_. He caught up faster than he would have liked but he wasn't of the mood to complain; he bunched his legs and sprang up as high as he could, taking the other troll down as easily as picking fruits from a tree. A startled cry of fear was quickly cut off by a meeting with the dirt, and Deacon thought proudly that he might have even driven him down deep enough to have swallowed some on accident. Grabbing the lowblood by his collar he hauled him up, making his lazy way back to where he had left the others.

 

He was glad to see none of them had tried, or been able, to escape; one chase down as enough for this group, he thought. A thrill of anticipation ran through him and he rubbed his palms together eagerly, spreading some of the blood smeared on there. Time to get to work.

 

He had more than enough experience in this to make it easy, but it had only been lately that Deacon had tried to fine tune the art of taking trolls apart.

 

Quite literally.

 

He made quick work of ensuring they would stay where needed be, using one of the blades hidden in his boots to cut the tendons in their calves and render their legs useless. The arms would be dislocated with a jerk and a pull in the right direction, and then the real work began. The ribs, he had learned, were not worth the time needed to split them apart unless you had something big and sharp to help, but the flesh of the belly would split apart with enough force, and the sight of intestines hanging out was a better horror sight than a missing heart, which would take closer examination to find. Skulls broken open was another good one, and the trees around were perfect for weakening them enough to crack them open with his feet after a few hits. Horns missing or broken was good as well, and a stomp or two was enough to fracture or break them completely. Basically the goal was to get as much blood and gore out of the body as quickly as possible, without doing too much damage to the actual body. Not corpse, because some of these fuckers were still alive. And would be for a while, if he did good today.

 

Not that their screams would be an actual deterrent to others who came through looking to fight him, but they served as reminders of what happened if you tangled and lost at the merciless whim of the purpleblooded wraith that haunted this forest.

 

Deacon leaned back, wiping his hands on one of the shirts another troll had been wearing. He had piled all of their belongings and sylladex items to the side where they would be relatively safe and clean to go through later when he was done, and now the dismembered, bloody remnants of their owners lay sprawled out naked before him. Three of them were still twitching and gurgling, which was a good sign for some screaming or moaning when he had left. But anyway, it was time to get them in place.

 

Another thing he had learned was to always carry rope with him, and he withdrew long coils of it now, looking around for suitable patches of trees with good branches to hang these scaretrolls from. It was probably one of the first things he should have looked for once he had started on his work but he had gotten too caught up in carving these motherfuckers up to remember. Anyway, there was one here, and he could probably find more down the line. He wanted them in a neat row across the forest, that way they would be easier to find.

 

The yellowblood was first to go up, a rope length looped around his neck and hauled up to hang a good twenty feet from the ground. He was pretty sure the other was dead—pretty sure, but not entirely certain and really, there wasn't much of a point to check anyway—and after a quick rearrangement of the way his head and drooping guts hung Deacon moved on to the next one, dragging her by her horns (the only relatively bloodless part of her left) and leaving a clear trail before stringing her up crucifixion style to the trunk of another tree.

 

The remaining three were strung up in similar ways along the trees and Deacon fussed over them a little before being satisfied and returning back to where he had left the loot he had collected, shoving it all up in his own sylladex and trotting off to some place not covered in rainbow colors of troll blood. It looked like he had picked up a good haul today, and so early in the night too! Maybe he would find something for Persef in there too.

 

He approached a clearing he was familiar with, scouting around to make no one was around or waiting for him before clambering into a low-limbed tree, settling down to examine w hat he had compiled. Hmm, couple piles of caesars, some boonbucks, all the weapons the other had possessed (he was glad to see knives in the pile, it was an easy way to replace the ones he might lose or break, as rare as it might be), lots and lots of other miscellaneous stuff that trolls usually had, extra clothes and a few lunches....

 

After a while a sound prickled his ears and he straightened up, narrowing his half-blind eyes into the distance. A second passed, before a wide grin split his face.

 

They were screaming.

 

*

 

He bounded forward to the door of his shared hive, brimming with energy. It was a different energy than the one from before, the pins-and-needles shivers that ran through his legs and hands and wouldn't go away until he was kicking someone's face in and breaking bones, the one that deepened and flared with prickles of anger and frustration from any number of things until he had to go out or he thought he'd explode if he didn't hit something. It was better if it was some _one_.

 

But no that energy had been expended so far into the work he had hung up on trees like a wriggler's proud grubpaint drawings, and he was feeling particularly empty when it came to it. He had to fill up again on something and he knew exactly what it was. Or more like what he wanted it to be.

 

It remained the number one go to item on the wrinkled little list tucked into the back of his jeans.

 

Entering the hive his eyes quickly spotted his target and he made his way forward as quietly as possible, drawing up behind Persef who was standing at the kitchen table, organizing packets of what looked to be seeds on the wooden surface. Deacon wrapped arms around the thin waist in front of him, pulling flush against his backside with a grin.

 

“Hey hot stuff, what're you doing?”

 

Deacon could tell he had caught Persef off guard, from the way he tensed and jumped in his embrace but he quickly relaxed, trying to turn around and look back at him. He didn't let him though, leaning down to rest his head against Persef's and brush his lips through black hair, putting just the slightest more pressure as he came to the base of one gently curving horn.

 

Whatever word had been forming on the tealblood's lips quickly died out, and Deacon pressed his advantage, sliding hands up below Persef's sweater and dragging over his chest, just sharply enough that they would leave a good tingle as he went down. Peering to the side he could see Persef's eyes fixed on the roaming hands, lips between his teeth as a dark blush spread across his cheeks.

 

Persef puts up his protest, “Deacon, I was busy.” Already, his breathing has picked up. Deacon can hear the hitch in his throat.

 

“Mhm,” he brushes the rather feeble excuse aside, his fingers picking at the button of Persef’s jeans.

 

“Deacon, come o- _onnnn,_ ” a hollow echo of a protest delves off into a moan as his jeans are wriggled dragged down and fingers curl over one thigh, slowly inching upwards. Persef reaches behind himself to grip clutch at deacon's shirt, breath hitching sucking in air through parted lips and Deacon knows he has him now; he pushes Persef's jeans down to his knees, teeth digging into, nearly bruising on his neck as his fingers rubbed tight circles over Persef's slit, quickly coaxing his bulge to unsheathe. It curled around his fingers eagerly and his smirk grin grew wider as a whine escaped form Persef's lips, his hips jerking, twitching bucking up closer into his hand. The tealblood squirmed and kicked off was out of his jeans completely, leaning back against deacon's chest heavily. He could tell he was still holding back though, all quiet moans and breathing tight gasps and well, that was definitely gonna stop soon. He’ll be _screaming_ by the time Deacon’s done with him.

 

The hand that wasn’t tied up in bulge tugged at the hem of the offending sweater, covering precious skin. Persef reacted sluggishly at first, but then jerked off the sweater as quickly as possible, letting out a sharp gasp as teeth latched onto one bare shoulder, nipping and forming what would later be a spectacular love bite.

 

Persef arched into the table as Deacon's lips moved across his shoulders and neck, nipping and kissing over the top of his back. A firm hand held him steady around the waist, hips grinding onto the tealblood's ass, the friction making Persef whimper in half-anticipation as a hand worked him from the front. With a last stroke Deacon pulled back, and the other gave what could have almost been a hiss of frustration, reaching forward to touch himself but Deacon was quick to stop him, bumping him forward and rocking him into the table. Persef knew by now he wasn't allowed to touch himself during these times and his bare hips twitched in the air, desperate for something to thrust against.

 

Deacon stripped down and turned Persef to face him, lifting him to sit him on the kitchen table and scattering seed packets into the ground; Persef didn't really care. Once again he reached for the teal-colored bulge, sliding the tip between two fingers; Persef's head fell back, a desperate groan building in his throat. Still holding back. Deacon stepped forward, his bulge sliding out in one fluid twist, and he ran a finger down the sides of both, repressing a shudder at the spike in pleasure at the coils of his own stomach.

 

He positioned himself between Persef's legs, all teeth and smiles as he leaned down a bit. “Tell me what you want.”

 

The words made Persef groan again, catching Deacon's eye. He knew the game that was being played, knew how it went and what Deacon wanted from him. Still he tried to plead out. “Deacon...come on you know what I want...”

 

“You sure about that, 'sef, last time I checked I was pretty sure I wasn't some sorta crazy psychic.” He slid his fingers to curl over the base of Persef's bulge, reveling in the gasp that sounded as he rubbed between the base and the top of his nook. The tealblood opened his mouth to respond but Deacon took that chance to slide two fingers into his nook, twisting down sharply. Persef jerked as if he had been shocked, a cry cutting off in his throat.

 

“What was that, I couldn't hear you.” His fingers imitated what he would be doing soon, pushing in and out in shallow thrusts as his other hand stroked over Persef's arousal. He could feel his own lust building as he watched his matesprit's teeth bite down on flushed lips, stomach tensing with every stroke, and his own bulge twisted and curled in helpless lust. Persef's eyes had shut by now, his claws dug deep onto the wooden surface of the table as he whimpered, hips struggling to thrust into the hand encircling him. His mouth opened and closed a few times, fighting to form coherent words.

 

“Want you to...” He took a shuddering breath, the last word trailing off into a curse as Deacon leaned down to lay a sharp nip below his jaw. “Want you to fuck me. Hard. Please, Deacon, okay, _please_!”

 

_There we go_. Deacon grinned, sliding his hips forward in no small relief himself between Persef's spread legs; the other reaching forward eagerly and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, nails digging in as if to stop him from leaving. Deacon reached down to steady himself, taking the bit of distance left and sliding in, kissing down his neck until he reached the smaller troll's chest, leaning him back as Persef cried out, nails digging in tighter and harder as Deacon slid in deeper with every inch. The purpleblood's hands slid down to cup Persef's backside and set his pace, shallow thrusts that put him halfway, breathing heavily as Persef's bulge curled over the remaining inches in a tight pulsing embrace. Persef is in his ear, moaning words in an onrushing babble, shuddering hard as “ _yes, god, fill me up Deacon, you feel so good, oh god keep going_ ” dropped from his panting lips.

 

Deacon's hands suddenly grip hard and Persef is lifted up from the table with a gasp, arms grasping and legs tightening around the taller troll's hips as he realized it was only Deacon's strength holding him up. The other could almost feel the exhilarated nervousness rise in Persef's body but he held him steady, bracing one leg against the kitchen table. “Come on, darling, just lock your legs...I got you. It's all on you if you want it.” Persef groaned, burying his face in Deacon's shoulder, his arms trembling from the strain of rising stimulation. But soon enough he was leaning back in Deacon's grip, hips rolling forward faster as he took him in. His hands braced themselves over Deacon's shoulders, using them to move himself as the other drove in deep, loud moans lost as he continued marking the tealblood's chest with teeth and lips. Persef quickly found the angle he wanted, riding him as hard as he could but it wasn't quite enough and a frustrated cry built up as he was brought to the edge and kept there, scratching at Deacon harder when he couldn't get what he wanted.

 

“ _Deacon,_ ” the word is a helpless whine, humid and hot, “I-I can't, I need, need more, I need you _please_ , please just fuck me I'm almost the _eeere_ , just need you to _help, Deacon please, please..._ ”.

 

There's a burning in him that fights but he stops anyway, causing Persef to make a sound that is almost a shriek, frustrated and defiant because is _not_ what he wanted but Deacon only lays him back on the table, spread-eagle this time and looming over him. Persef's face is caught up in desperate pleading, biting his tongue and clawing down his arms in an effort to persuade him to _for the love of god keep going don't stop don't stop_ and he bites back his own groan, his bulge throbbing inside of his lover.

 

“Gonna fuck you hard is that was you want? You want it fast?” Persef was nodding frantically before he had even finished, lips mouthing the word yes like a prayer. “Fuck you so hard you can't even walk when I'm done with you.”

 

“ _Yes, yes,_ give it to me, come _on_!” He spreads legs wider in invitation and that's all Deacon needed, both hands now gripping his waist as he shoves himself in as far as he can go. Persef screams, back arching and trying to match his pace, legs tensing as they held on tight. Deacon was relentless, pushing in and it's working he can see it through the haze on Persef's face he's right there and at the edge again waiting to get pushed off; he freed one hand to reach between them, taking Persef into his hand and giving quick firm strokes, and it's the added kick that makes Persef scream again, coating Deacon's hand in a bright teal as he locked up. Deacon felt his muscles jerk and clench around him and he lets it pull him down into bliss, coming with a curse and Persef's name on his lips.

 

Persef is still breathing heavily when Deacon opens his eyes again, flushed dark and limp on the table as their eyes meet and the taller trolls laughs a little at the question in that gaze, leaning down to kiss him. “Not done with you yet, beautiful.”

 

Persef's grin matched his own in deviant expectancy.

 

*

 

Persef lay back on the table, Deacon sitting with his back to it on the floor next to one dangling leg, smiling in proud self-accomplishment..

 

Persef grumbled a little as he stretched a leg into the air, back arching as he smeared traces of purple off of his fingers from where he scratched Deacon. “I was gonna do things today, you know, make lunch, switch out the plants outgrowing their pots before they broke them or ruined their roots, make some lunch afterward with the little hookbeast bits you like so much but I guess that's not going to happen now is it, too bad I'll just have to stay in and do nothing for the rest of today instead of being slightly productive...”

 

Deacon laughed and stood up, stretching a bit as he did so. “You want me to carry you to bed or something?”

 

A smile upturned Persef's lips and he brought up one hand in a beckoning gesture. “Yeah. But to a bath okay?”

 

“Sure.” Deacon scooped him up easily, bringing him over to the bathroom, where he sat Persef down inside the tub, running the water and tossing in some of those bubble spheres Persef was fond of. Soon fragrant bubbles and foam floated atop of the warm water, and Deacon slid in, facing the other with a grin. He didn't usually take these kinds of baths unless he was joining Persef, so the bubbles were kind of a novelty. He gathered a bunch of them, cupping them in his hands and placing them on Persef's head, shaping them into a lopsided crown. Grinning, Persef tried to look up at what was on his head, only causing the bubble creation to tilt dangerously to the side.

 

“C'mere, gonna get you all cleaned up.” The purpleblood pulled Persef closer, lathering up his hands with a bar of soap sitting on the side before setting to work, starting at the other's shoulders. He worked carefully over the circular marks he had left over his neck and chest, dabbing soapy bubbles on each of Persef's cheek as the other giggled softly. Hands delved underwater to soothe sore thigh muscles and sweep over Persef's stomach, wiping away the remnants of their romp out in the kitchen.

 

Persef leaned into the other's chest as he went along, letting him sweep over to reach his back and run fingers though his hair. Deacon felt soft touches trace down the scars on his chest, sharp nails dipping into indents and ridges of skin. Kisses soon joined the touches in their explorations, and he was more than ok with that.

 

After a while though he finished, letting Persef return the favor as he concentrated on washing his hair, turning when asked so the smaller troll could wash his back and the scratches newly left there. Then they sat for a while, Persef held close to Deacon, piling little bubble heaps on his chest and blowing at them softly until they disintegrated as the water lost its heat. Once the foam had all disappeared they rinsed off, Persef standing determinedly on still-shaky legs to get them both some towels. Deacon laughed as Persef's hair became a poofy mess once it was halfway dried, and the other flicked water droplets at him, combing through the fluffed up locks with a pointed glance at the purpleblood's own messy, damp hair—Deacon ignored it and pushed it into his usual ponytail; it would dry by itself later.

 

He carried Persef to their room after they changed, correctly thinking that Persef probably wouldn't make it there by himself—he took the blame with a smug grin—resting back on the bed as he drew up the covers; Persef yawned and curled up next to the taller troll, who enveloped him in a tight embrace. Deacon heard him give a sleepy moan.

 

“You gonna take a nap with me? Just a little one...” he trailed off, snuggling closer.

 

Deacon leaned forward to kiss his cheek, smoothing back still-damp hair from his forehead. “Nah, I'm not really sleepy, gonna go and do some stuff first, you know, but I'll join you in a little while, okay, 'sef?”

 

A sigh was his only response; the other was already asleep. Deacon gave a little chuckle, laying a few more kisses on his face before moving away, tucking the covers around him and standing up from the bed. He stretched, feeling muscles loosen and curve before he left for the kitchen, back toward the table. He picked up all the seed packets that littered the floor, tossing them back onto the surface which thankfully had escaped any staining from their activities. He was pretty sure he had left new scrapes on it though. Well, he didn't think Persef would mind. Much.

 

Striding out toward the back door, he came into the garden, looking for the plants Persef had mentioned earlier. He had decided that he was gonna help Persef out a little and get those plants in the ground or whatever it was that had to be done to them. He was pretty sure he had heard Persef say that they needed to leave their pots and go into the dirt or something. Casting his eyes around he spotted a little grouping of orange painted blobs—or what looked like blobs to him—off toward the left that had to be the pots Persef was talking about. He went over to pick one up, examining it closely. Okay yeah, that was a plant in a pot. Cool.

 

Grabbing it in one hand he gave the stem a sharp tug, ripping it from its potted resting place. Uhh...okay where to plant this thing now. Deacon looked around but as he did the plant, whose stem had almost been snapped in half from his pulling, suddenly fell apart, the already weakened roots dropping from the rest of the leafy stem.

 

“ _Fuck._ ” Shit okay, he was pretty sure Persef was not going to be happy about that later. Deacon flung the ruined thing as hard as he could into the forest, watching it quickly vanish into the undergrowth. Yeah, he'd never find it now. He glared at the other pots waiting in front of him. Okay how was he supposed to help Persef if these stupid things were gonna break when he pulled them out? He thought about it for a second before coming up with a brilliant idea, withdrawing one of the knives in his boots and flipping it into a ready hand. He gave the next pot a sharp whap with the blade, watching them shatter. Yeah, he'd get Persef some new pots later. He picked up the plant from the remnants, looking around again. Well, he'd better get this thing in the ground. A quick kick to the loamy dirt got him a hole and he widened it out with the knife and a hand, pushing the little plant inside. He looked at his handiwork critically. Yup, that looked good. He repeated the process with the other pots, pushing the orange shards into a little pile and hiding them behind a tree. He was going to get Persef new ones but that didn't mean he had to know about it _just_ yet...

 

Wiping off the blade he sheathed it again, grinning. Alright, time for lunch.

 

Lunch consisted of the grubloaf from last night and a few—five—sandwiches he tossed together, and he sat in the kitchen for a while wondering what else to do with his day. He reviewed the mental list he kept for such emergencies, and quickly came to a conclusion.

 

Time to fight some more assholes.

 

Clapping his hands together Deacon grinned eagerly, getting up to go to the front door again. Yeah, there were always people out in the forest, looking to fight him, who was he to deny them what they wanted? He had never been a cruel troll, like that... he checked his blades and boots, opening the door in an excited rush, and stopping at who he saw on the other side.

 

Aiidas stood there with his hand upraised as if about to knock, a rare startled look upon his features. Deacon felt a little flicker of what could only be called a sassy smugness settle in his chest and he leaned against the threshold, smirking. “Yeah, what d'you fuckin' want, seahag?”

 

A discontent rumble sounded from the other and a murderous glare bounced off of the impervious Deacon. “Nothing that involves you _breathing_. Where is Persef?”

 

Deacon heaved a theatrical sigh. “He's sleeping, seemed pretty out of it when I checked up on him...”

 

Aiidas' eyes widened just a fraction in worry. “Is he alright, what happened?”

 

“Oh nothing, I just wore him out on the _fucking TABLE_ , that's what, haHA!” Deacon laughed in his face, taking in the expressions of anger, jealousy and sheer rage that flashed over Aiidas' face. Hell. _Yes._ “Better not wake him up, fucker, he's gonna be sleeping it off. All. _Night_.” He pushed Aiidas out of the way, slamming the door shut behind him as he took off, still laughing, into the forest.

 

Oh _yes_ , that was _beautiful_.

 

*

 

The sun was nearly over the horizon when Deacon returned to the hive, his sylladex heavy with what he had picked up, hands stained into a rainbow and a new set of bodies hung onto various trees in the forest. He breathed in deep, a slow feeling of satisfaction running through his veins. He felt good. Really, really good. Setting inside, he found the hive still dark. Persef must have not woken up yet, he knew he'd worn him out. He dropped off his various trophies in his special room to be organized later, as well as a few shiny blue jewels he had snagged from a troll this second time around. He wasn't sure how the other had gotten a hold of them, considering it was just a stupid rustblood but he didn't really give a shit. He'd clean them up and they would make nice presents for Persef tomorrow.

 

Deacon yawned, heading into the bathroom to take a quick shower before bed. Once he had finished stripping himself of the various low colors on his body he slipped into sleepshorts, undid his ponytail, and lay down next to the still-sleeping Persef, bringing him in closer. Persef gave a mumble, squirming before settling down again. Deacon held him tight, a content grin on his face as he recalled how today had gone.

 

Yeah, today had been a fucking _great_ day.


End file.
